We Stand United
by Duochanfan
Summary: After Reichenbach, John has to learn how to go through life without his lover, Sherlock. But will he be able to with little reminders of the man popping up all the time? And just who is sending the letters?
1. Chapter 1

**I don't own BBC Sherlock, they are the creative works of Steven Moffat, Mark Gatiss and of course the wonderful Sir Arthur Conan Doyle.**

**Well, this started as a series of one shots, but it's now grown into a small story. I do hope you all like it, but be warned angst filled for a while.**

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**We Stand United**

**Chapter One**

John stood in the middle of 221B Baker Street, his mind still numb from the event a week ago. He closed his eyes against the wave of emotions, and all he saw was Sherlock falling, jumping from the roof of St Bart's. Blue eyes snapped open when the door to the flat opened and Mycroft walked in. The British Government stood tall and regal as an equally tall elderly couple walked in behind him. John gave a nod to the three of them, not able to summon up a smile for his late partners parents and elder brother. John didn't think he would ever be able to smile again. He had not only lost his best friend, but his lover.

"Oh John," Violet 'Please call me Mummy' Holmes sighed softly as she saw that John hadn't finished getting ready, she walked towards him, going around her eldest son and husband.

"Sorry," he murmured as he looked to the black tie in his hand. He didn't wish to go, it felt like it would be admitting that Sherlock was gone and that he would never be coming back.

Mummy Holmes took the tie from him and wrapped it around his neck and began to tie it, "It's all right John, we're here with you, and you're not alone."

John just nodded a little as she finished doing a Windsor knot and brushed his shoulders. There were footsteps coming up the stairs once again, an angry mumbling and rustling of paper.

"That…" Mrs Hudson said, her eyes taking on a dangerous glint as she almost shouted, "That woman, that vile piece of shit!" she ended up yelled as she threw the paper onto the coffee table as she then went over to John and wrapped her up in her arms, "Oh my poor boy."

Mycroft walked over to the coffee table and picked up the paper that the irate landlady had thrown.

"Read it Mycroft," John said, his voice level and calm, void of all emotions.

Mycroft glanced at the article and then looked over to John saying softly, "I don't think it's a wise idea."

John shook his head, "I may as well know what they are saying about me, so I know what to expect when I walk out of that door."

"Do so," Alexander Holmes told his son as he walked to stand beside John.

Mycroft sighed, still thinking it was a bad idea, "Very well." He nodded as he read out the small article on the front page.

**The Fraud had a Lover**

_Kitty Riley_

_Today the fraudulent consulting detective, Sherlock Holmes, is to be put to rest. The man shocked a Nation when it came to light that the one highly thought of Consulting Detective, had actually paid off actor, Richard Brooks, to play at being his rival. It was even more shocking when, after being confronted with the truth, he broke out of police custody and went on the run with Blogger, John Watson. Hours later he was standing on the rooftop of St Bart's, and jumped to his death. Best friend and Blogger, John Watson was nearby watching, talking on the phone to his friend trying to talk him out of jumping._

_You can't help but feel for Doctor John Watson, after watching his best friend fall to his death. Though Watson has taken the more unpopular stance in saying that he believes in Sherlock Holmes and all that he has done during their time together. But I have recently heard that the relationship between Sherlock Holmes and John Watson was deeper than people believe. They were actually lovers, and have been for over a year. This puts new light on the statements that he has given in his belief of Holmes. Did this Ex-Army Doctor know that his lover was a fraud and had made up James Moriarty? Was he part of it all? Or did a mastermind dupe him? These are things that the police will have to figure out as they look through all the cases that Sherlock Holmes had worked on during his time, working with New Scotland Yard._

"That's enough," Violet said softly as she saw John slump a little more.

Mycroft nodded as he said, "I will need to do something about her, and about all of this. I already have things ready to prove to the police of Sherlock's innocence, and statements that are to be released to the public." he looked to the rest of the article and whispered, "She has gone too far."

Alexander nodded his head to his son as he said, "Right, go on, all of you wait out side, I want to talk with John for a moment."

Mycroft, Violet and Mrs Hudson looked to the older man and nodded, they left the two standing in the middle of 221B Baker Street.

Alexander went over to John and placed large hands on his shoulders, "John," he called to the man, as he slowly lifted his head and looked up to his lover's father, "I know it's not much comfort at the moment but you need to remember he loved you, you meant everything to him. He would do anything to keep you safe, and I have no doubt that he jumped to save you. Sherlock didn't care what anyone else thought of him, he didn't care about anyone else at all. He loved you, with all his awkwardness." He smiled softly; Alexander looked much like Sherlock though his hair was thinner, and slightly more tamed.

"I…" John started as his throat closed on him and he struggled to keep the tears at bay as finally the numbness started to leave him and all he felt was profound loss, "I can't do this," he whispered.

Alexander sighed softly as he pulled John close giving him the comfort that he needed, "You can, you need to show the people that believe in those dreadful lies that you are stronger, and that you will not back down and you believe in Sherlock, no matter what they say."

John lent against the taller man, taking the comfort offered, even though his mind rebelled against it, wanting nothing more than to be with Sherlock. "I know."

Alexander gave a soft smile, the sadness deep in his steel grey eyes, so much like his youngest sons, "Let's go, and when this is over you are coming back to Dorset with Violet and I and taking some time to recover. The peace and quiet will do you some good."

John nodded, he knew that he couldn't come back to Baker Street; the press were already outside, hounding him for information and a new story. It was only thanks to Mycroft's people that the front door step wasn't swamped all the time. Alexander let him go and straighten John's black suit out and then made sure he, himself was presentable. Alexander took the lead as John looked around Baker Street once again, he wouldn't be back for a little while at least, but he knew he couldn't leave, couldn't leave the memory of Sherlock behind, and their life together.

John walked down the stairs and out into the open, camera flashes were going off as the hearse was at the front and a limo was waiting for them, Mycroft, Violet and Mrs Hudson were already inside. Alexander got in and joined them. John went to get in, but he looked to the hearse and the coffin that now held Sherlock's body, and he froze. Alexander reached a hand out and took hold of John's and pulled him towards the door. Getting the man to climb in.

John practically shut down as they drove to the Church, not saying or doing anything. Inside the church he was sat between Violet and Mrs Hudson, the two of them holding is hand until it was time for him to give a eulogy. John went to stand, but his legs wouldn't support him as he just crashed to the floor of the church, eyes blurring. Mycroft was quickly by his side as he helped him to stand and let him sit back in the pew.

"I can't do it." He whispered brokenly, he couldn't admit that Sherlock was gone.

Mycroft nodded as he said, "Don't worry, I prepared something just in case."

John nodded as his hands were once again taken by Violet and Mrs Hudson. Mycroft went to the front and stood up, speaking about his little brother and how he was and how he would be missed. He mentioned John and how he had brought out the very best in his brother. The service soon came to an end and they stood up, Alexander making sure that John would remain upright as they walked out of the church to the graveyard, where Sherlock was to be buried.

As Sherlock was lower and he threw in the white rose, whispering, "Bye Sherlock." As he did so, he finally looked up to those that gathered. People that Sherlock had helped before he had met John and those after. Lestrade was to one side, dressed in black, he caught John's eyes and walked over.

"Remember what I said that night that you moved to Baker Street, the drugs bust?" he asked John as he stood beside Sherlock's grave. Looking to the casket that would soon to be covered in earth.

John nodded a little, he remembered some of that night, "What is it Greg?" he asked him, wearily, to tired and drawn out after all that had happened.

"I knew Sherlock to be a good man before he met you. But at the end, because of you, he was a great man. I believe in him John. No one could fake what he did, I knew that when I had no choice but to arrest him." Lestrade told him as he gave a small smile. "That belief may even cost me my Job, but at the moment, I don't really care, they caused a great man to make a choice, and it's something I can't forgive." He finished as he turned and placed a hand on John's shoulder as he went to walk away.

"He thought of you as one of his friends, one of his few friends, one of only three he had. The text you sent us, warning us, he knew that if we ran, it would be traced back to you and you would be in trouble for it. He stayed that night at Baker Street to await arrest because he didn't want to see you loose something you love doing." John told him, he knew that Lestrade had done all he could to halt what was going on, but with Donovan and Anderson, both going over his head, he had no choice, but at least he did warn them, let the two prepare a little for what was to come.

Lestrade nodded as John then frowned as he caught sight a blue flash on the black suit. Lestrade followed his eyes and said, "Those of us that believe are wearing one." He nodded towards those that were gathered.

John turned around and began to notice the armband of blue, on everyone that Sherlock had helped, via the police or the blog. They were all wearing one. It was the same blue as the scarf that Sherlock loved to wear. John gave them a small watery smile, glad that he wasn't the only one that believed in Sherlock.

"We stand united John, you're not alone, I've been going through the case files that Sherlock had helped us with, and I can't find anything that tells me that he is a liar. Everything he told us that led to an arrest was backed up later with evidence that was found. I don't think a single one of the cases that he helped us with will be over turned." Lestrade told him softly, "Each of them, all believe in Sherlock, because he helped them get the justice they deserve."

"Mycroft has more information about Sherlock being real and about Moriarty as well. It will be released tomorrow, to the police and the public." He told him, knowing that the other could do with the heads up.

Lestrade nodded, "all right," he said softly as he then said, "And John, I'm really sorry. I know the two of you loved each other, I could see that when ever I saw you both."

John looked away as he fought back his tears once again, "I don't know if I can do this without him."

"You will," Alexander said as he came up beside the two, "Now John, I believe that we should get you away. Time for you to recover."

Lestrade looked at his friend and could see the bags under John's eyes and the tiredness within them, the paleness. "Go, and make sure to take care of yourself John. When you want, give me a call and we'll go out for a pint. If you want to talk, then call me as well, you know I'm here for you."

John nodded as he said, "I know, and I will if I need to."

Alexander then led him away as Violet and Mycroft joined them, guarding John as they went out of the graveyard and towards the limo that waited for them, cameras flashing once again, as the press lurked around for another story. People came from the graveyard and lined around John, blocking him from view, to let him have some privacy and peace as he was taken away to recover and gather himself once again as his life crumbled down around him. Wondering what he would do now, without Sherlock to walk beside him.

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**Thank you for reading, and I do hope that you have enjoyed the first chapter. More to come, hoping to post once a week on a Wednesday.**


	2. Chapter 2

**I don't own BBC Sherlock, they are the creative works of Steven Moffat, Mark Gatiss and of course the wonderful Sir Arthur Conan Doyle.**

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**We Stand United**

**Chapter Two**

Sergeant Sally Donovan and the Forensic Scientist Phillip Anderson walked up to the bullpen and was about to head to Lestrade's office. Donovan looked around her and noted that a number of the people there were wearing blue armbands. She went over to one of the officer's desks and looked down to the youngish looking man that was seated at it. The man looked up to her, wondering what the Sergeant wanted.

"What's with the arm band?" she asked him looked to it, Anderson coming over to stand beside her.

"It's to show that we believe in Sherlock Holmes," he answered her truthfully. He, like the other officers in the Yard, knew that the two didn't like Sherlock.

"What!" She exclaimed, eyes wide, "How can anyone believe in that fraud!"

"That's where you're wrong Donovan," Lestrade said as he came out of his office, she quickly noted that he too, was wearing a blue armband.

"What do you mean by that sir?" she asked him confused. "Holmes invented Moriarty, you read the articles. He couldn't handle people knowing the truth about him, so he took a swan dive off Bart's and duped that poor Watson, and made him watch." She told him, as though she was talking to a child.

Lestrade clenched a fist as he only just kept his temper in check at the hurtful words, "This morning information came to us proving not only the existence of James Moriarty, but also proof on the cases that Sherlock worked on that he was telling the truth. It's all in my office, its all with the Chief as well, and later on I have no doubt that Kitty Riley will feel a fool for ever trying to get back at Sherlock for turning her down." he told her through gritted teeth.

"You mean that she did all of this just to get back at Mr Holmes for turning down her advancements?" one of the officers asked Lestrade.

"Only part of it was because of that. James Moriarty wanted to see Sherlock fail, to be torn apart by everyone, with no one else to turn to, and with no one to believe in him. With Riley out for Sherlock's blood he went to her, making up the story of Richard Brook. Saying it was why he was found not guilty at his trial. In reality, we've just found proof that he had actually blackmailed and threatened the jurors into saying Not Guilty." Lestrade answered him as he turned cold eyes on to Donovan, "It's because of you and Anderson going above my head that he was pushed off that ledge. You may have thought you were doing your job, but you weren't. You didn't bring me anything, no evidence, no proof of what you were telling everyone. You said something and expected everyone to believe you. You went over my head and badgered the Chief into getting a warrant to arrest an innocent man. All because of what you both said." he finished his dressing down; he had been waiting to do that since he had heard the news of Sherlock's suicide.

"But you know that we were right. How could he have known all of those things? It's just not possible." Anderson told him, his eyes going a little wide at Lestrade's words.

Lestrade shook his head in disgust, "Maybe if the two of you actually listened to him when he explained things about what he had found, instead of calling him a freak, you may have learnt something from him. Sherlock knew what he was talking about, and always did. As of today the two of you are under review as is the Chief. Since you all acted without evidence and a warrant was signed on nothing but rumour. I'm also under review for letting Sherlock and John onto crime scenes, but it is something I expected to happen. Though my actions are covered a bit, since he did have a licence as a Private Investigator, and so does John. We could contract them to work with us, though Sherlock never liked to fill in the paperwork. When John arrive, he would do it more often than not."

"But Sir?" Donovan frowned as she gave one piece of evidence against Sherlock, "What about he girl, she screamed as soon as she saw him. Why would she do that if he wasn't involved in the kidnapping?" she asked him, a slightly smug smile on her face.

Lestrade looked to her in disbelief as he said, "You really are bloody thick. Can anyone tell me how easy it is to make a child scared of someone without them even meeting before hand?" he asked the room, glancing at the officers that had gather around him.

"Very," one of the female officers chuckled, "My nine year old daughter is petrified of my brother, Peter. My husband and I made one joke about him being a monster. He's a mascot, in a costume over in America. So, she has only seen pictures of him. He was able to make it for her birthday this year. As soon as she saw him, she screamed so loudly we thought she was being murdered." she finsihed.

"Yeah, my kids are the same, though its more because we told them that one of the dogs had to go away and that the vet took him. We couldn't tell then that Rover had died. Anytime we go to the Vet now, they hide behind my wife and I." Another said with a wry smile.

"And there you go Donovan, that is how easy it is to make a kid scared of someone without them even meeting. He just had to show them a picture of Sherlock, say that he is a bad man. Give them some sweets, which they were still eating when we got there, that would show them that he was a good guy, who had showed them the Devil." Lestrade told them, shaking his head, wondering if this is what Sherlock felt like when he had to deal with them being thick about something.

Donovan and Anderson went quiet as they looked to the others in the room, so many of them were wearing the blue armbands. They would find no help there, no one wanted to back them, "I want to see this so called evidence." Donovan then said sounding more confident that she felt.

Lestrade nodded his head as he led the two to his office. He sat down and pulled out the folder with all the proof against Moriarty and proof of Sherlock's innocence. He handed it over to them as they sat down. Together the two of them began to read it all. Almost an hour later that had finished the file. Both Donovan and Anderson looked a little green around the fills, feeling sick at their own actions that helped a good man commit suicide.

"We left him with no where to turn." She whispered, her voice breaking slightly as she realised exactly what she, Anderson and the Chief had done.

"You both were so intent on getting him locked away, that you wouldn't listen to anyone. You then went above me after you told me. I asked you for evidence, for the proof about your words. Yet again you didn't listen when I was telling you things. Lestrade told them both, a serious look on his face, "Sherlock, who's life's work was helping people get the justice they deserve, went to that ledge because you pushed him into a corner. He had no where left to turn and the love that John and Sherlock share just wasn't enough to stop him." he sighed sadly as he stood up. Lestrade walked out of the room, unable to stand the sight of the two. It had only been a day since the funeral and all he could see what the lost look in John's eyes as he stood among Sherlock's family.

Lestrade made himself a coffee and stood there sipping the bitter liquid. He had a lot of work to do, making sure that every single one of Sherlock's cases were airtight, even though he knew they would be. The man had been a genius at his job. Lestrade often wished he had been able to convince Sherlock to join the force. He went back to his office after his coffee, making another one to take with him. He was thankful that Donovan and Anderson were no longer there as he sat down at his desk and looked to the open cases he needed to close, along side those that had been closed thanks to Sherlock's help. It was going to be one of those long days, where there was just so much to do and not enough time to do it in. He could feel it in his bones.

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**Thought I would have a chapter for the other side, we will be returning to John in the next.**


	3. Chapter 3

**I don't own BBC Sherlock, they are the creative works of Steven Moffat, Mark Gatiss and of course the wonderful Sir Arthur Conan Doyle.**

**Well, another chapter for you all to read.**

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**We Stand United **

**Chapter Three**

John rolled over on the bed and looked towards the window across from him. He had been in Dorset for a month now; he was still reluctance to return to Baker Street. John knew that Mycroft had the place taken care of, making sure that Sherlock's experiments were disposed of properly and that the place was cleaned. John had, at first balked at Mycroft doing such a thing, but in the end he knew that he would have no choice. He knew he couldn't put everything away; he didn't want to even think of packing any of Sherlock's things.

John got up and off the bed. It was the same room that he and Sherlock had shared last Christmas. He walked into the bathroom, which was attached to his room. He got ready for the day, a hot shower and a shave, just the thing to make him feel awake and semi human. John was soon back in his bedroom and going through his drawers, trying to find the jeans he wanted to wear. He knew that Violet had put them away for him after having them washed, but he couldn't find them. He opened one of the drawers and stood still as he looked down into it. The drawer was one that Sherlock had used when they were last there.

John picked out the letter and the small box that sat beside it. He almost collapsed onto the floor as he stumbled towards his bed. His hands were shaking as he set the box down and looked to the letter with his name on it written in Sherlock's familiar scrawl. He opened it up and began to read.

_To my dear and wonderful John_

_Never would I have thought I would be writing something like this, but at this moment my father has just come back and handed me a small box, one with something very special inside of it. I had ordered it the moment I arrived here, and my father went to get it. I don't wish to see it until it rests in its proper place._

_I'm only here for a quick visit while you are in Ireland for a medical conference. You didn't want me moping at home, though I have to tell you that I don't mope. It was here, looking at my parents and how they are with each other and how much they love each other, even after being married for forty-four years and together for forty-six. It makes me wish for the same thing for us. To always be together, to grow old and grey right beside you._

_I have a plan in mind, and it's been forming for the last three days, since the moment I got here. What do you think of a small wedding, right here, in the garden in the summer? I can picture it, can you? The sun is shining as we stand in the garden, with those we care about around us. We say our vows to be together always, looking to each other and the future that awaits us. You have made me so sentimental John and I blame you entirely. Though I don't hold a grudge as I have loved ever moment I have spent with you since the moment I met you at St Bart's._

_We have had such a wonderful time together, and I can't help the sappy smile that is now on my face as I think of it all. Nothing that we have done together, have I deleted from my Mind Palace. You own an entire wing within it and every moment, more is added, even when you are not right beside me. Now I am to end this letter, with a plan to give it to you as I kneel before you and open that little box._

_Look to me and please say yes._

_Love always, _

_Sherlock._

John put the letter aside for a moment as he looked to the box and reached out a shaking hand as he picked it up. He opened it up and choked on a sob as he saw the ring that lay within, a titanium band with two small blue Topaz and a deeper blue Sapphire set between them, a little larger than the Topaz. He could barely see the message that was engraved with in. He clicked it closed as he broke down, sliding off the end of the bed as he held the small box close to him.

"John?" came Alexander's voice as he came up the stairs, hearing John crying as he walked past.

John couldn't even think of answering him as he looked around for the letter wanting to make sure it was safe. Alexander walked into the room and saw John on the floor and rushed over. He knelt down and noticed the small blue box clasped tightly in his hands and the letter on the bed. Alexander remembered Sherlock writing the letter a few months ago. John looked up to him, a broken and lost look still in his eyes as tears ran from reddened eyes.

"Oh John," he said softly as he joined him on the floor and pulled him towards him and wrapped him up in his arms as he let John cry out his grief. He knew exactly what that letter was meant for, Sherlock had told him in those few days he had been with them.

"It's not fair, why did he do it?" he whispered as his cries began to subside.

"I will never be able to give you a true answer on that John, all I know is what I know of my son." He told him as ran a hand through John's hair in comfort, "I know he loved you more than anything, you meant everything to him John."

"Not enough for him to stay with me," he whispered brokenly.

Alexander thought on that for a moment, "the only thing that would have made him jump was if something threatened you. Threatened your life."

"I just want him back," John's voice was still quiet, "please, I just want him back." He began to cry again.

Alexander stood up, helping John to his feet as well and put him back in the bed, not caring that the man was fully dressed. He heard footsteps on the stairs and he turned to see his wife walked in, concern in her light blue eyes as she walked over. He sat on the bed as John curled up, crying still, his sobs quiet as he took the letter and the box from John's almost unresisting grasp.

"Don't," he then said as he reached for them.

"It's all right John, I'm just going to put them on the side, so they wont be ruined." He soothed him as he sat at the head of the bed and ran a hand over his hair, hoping it would calm and sooth the tears and the grief that was overwhelming the younger man.

It took a while as John began to calm and soon drifted to a restless sleep. Violet sat on the other side of John looked to her husband and asked softly, her voice barely above a whisper, "What happened?"

"He found the engagement ring that Sherlock brought three months ago and the letter he wrote. Sherlock wanted to have a summer wedding next year, right here, in the garden. He wrote his plans down and gave them to me, everything he wanted there, everyone he wanted to invite. He planned the whole thing. He wanted to propose this Christmas." Alexander said, sharing the secret he had kept for his youngest son.

Violets eyes filled with tears as she thought of the loss that John was going thought after finding that out. The two shared a look, and knew that they would have to watch John closely, as this was something that could push him closer to the edge. It would hurt John badly to know that he had lost something he would never be able to get back.

"I'm going to call Mycroft. I want to know what the hell Sherlock was thinking. I know there must be something more going on. I want to know, because this is destroying John, he needs answers." Alexander said as he stood up, looking to the sleeping man once more.

Violet nodded as she whispered, "I'll stay with John."

With that Alexander walked out of the room to go and call his remaining son and find out why Sherlock jumped from that roof. He knew that it wouldn't have anything to do with what was going on in the papers. There was something else at play, and he knew his eldest son too well to think he wouldn't know what it was. Alexander just hoped that it was something that John would be able to hold onto as he came to terms with Sherlock's death.

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**Thank you for the reviews, I do hope that you continue to read this. **


	4. Chapter 4

**I don't own BBC Sherlock, they are the creative works of Steven Moffat, Mark Gatiss and of course the wonderful Sir Arthur Conan Doyle.**

**I have no more chapters of this pre-written. Though I do have plans made for more.**

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**We Stand United**

**Chapter Four**

John got out of the car that had taken him away from Violet and Alexander's tender care and back to Baker Street. The sky around him was beginning to turn a reddish colour as the sun started to set. The last three months still felt like a nightmare to John. Though but he knew that it was time for him to return home. He looked at the door and walked towards it. All of his things had already been taken back to Baker Street, thanks to Mycroft. John had noticed something was going on when he saw Alexander and Mycroft together over the last week he had spent in Dorset. There was something going on, and he knew that it had to do with Sherlock and what had happened.

Violet had told him that Alexander was going to try and find out why Sherlock had jumped. But the man hadn't told him anything afterwards. He hadn't said a word to either Mycroft or Alexander about it. John he was beginning to get suspicious that there was something else going on. John shuddered as he had felt someone watching him as he stood in the street.

John sighed and walked up to the door and frowned a little, before he smiled. It was just a small smile, but still a smile. On the brass knocker was a blue ribbon tied onto it. Those that believed in Sherlock were still around. He pulled out the key and took a deep breath. He hadn't stepped foot into 221B Baker Street since the day of the funeral. John knew that Mrs Hudson was taking care of his mail, and that someone from Mycroft's pool of agent would get them. They had then been forwarded to John, while he was in Dorset so he could sort them out.

He unlocked the door and walked in. He headed up to the flat, not wishing to see anyone just yet. John just wanted to get a cup of tea and settled himself down with the ghost of Sherlock that he felt around him. He closed the door to the flat and went into the kitchen. He frowned as he looked around; everything was the same, but not. A new kettle was sitting on the counter. It was just little things. Some things were new, and other in different places.

John walked around and noted the things that were different; he shook his head as he saw a note on the mantle, next to the Skull. He picked it up and recognised the writing as belong to Greg. He opened it up and began to read.

_Hey John_

_Don't know when you are coming back. I don't know if I would want to if it were me, if I'm honest. Mycroft and I went though the flat and took away some of Sherlock's experiments. There wont be any heads in the fridge or fingers in the jam. Molly was with us as well, making sure the place was sterilised. Mrs Hudson told me that she plans to come up to make sure the place is aired out and cleaned. I've been able to gather all of Sherlock's papers and that and put them in a box in the bedroom. You can go through them later, when you feel like it._

_Oh, and I've replaced a few things that Molly said would be a good idea. Since we don't know what Sherlock used when he was experimenting. All I remember are the horror stories you told me when we were at the pub._

_Don't forget to give me a call when you want to come to the pub. Or even if you just want someone to talk to for a bit. See you soon._

_Greg_

John smiled as he sat down on his chair, Sherlock's empty chair now before him. A twinge of pain went through his heart as he gave a shuddering sigh. He knew that coming home was going to be hard. John had hoped if he just pushed it all away he would be fine. He pulled his phone from his pocked and sent a quick text.

**At home again, thanks for the kettle, want to stop by for a cup? - JW - 7:32pm**

He set it on the end table as he shook his head. His mind could already hear the quiet strains of violin music. He was distracted a little by a beep from his phone. He picked it up and read the message.

**Good to hear you're back, and on my way. - GL - 7:34pm**

John smiled a little and got up, not looking to Sherlock's chair, or even to the violin case that was on the table between the windows. He went to the kitchen and filled the kettle, turning it on and grabbing two mugs from the cupboard. He looked through and saw food in them all. He went to the fridge and saw that was full of food and drinks as well. Mycroft had been busy, or rather, had sent someone else to be a little busy.

It didn't take long for Greg to arrive and to take the offered mug of tea with both hands. The two were sat in the living room, quiet for a moment, before Greg said softly, "It's good to have you back, how have you been?" he knew it was a normal question, but he couldn't help but wince inside at it.

John gave a dry chuckle as he answered, "Coping as best as I can." He paused for a moment before he asked, "What happened at the Yard, I know you said that there was a chance that you could have lost your job?"

Greg gave a small smile, "Anderson and Donovan have both taken a major hit. The Chief, the one you punched, was fired. The three of them acted without any evidence, Donovan will never be able to get out of Sergeant. It was close thing as she was almost fired. Anderson has lost commission and instead of being the head of the forensics unit, he's been demoted, someone else has taken over. I'm good, thanks to you making sure you both were licensed Private Investigator. It meant that what you gave us would hold up no matter what."

"Good, they deserve it," John said bitterly.

Greg nodded, "I don't know what else to say, I feel at a loss, I can't even imagine how you are feeling. Sherlock was a brat, but he was mine, if you know what I mean. Even when he was high and causing problems, I would often grab him take him to mine and make sure nothing happened during the night." he smiled a little at the memories.

"I know, I just don't know what I'm going to do now. Sherlock helped me build my life again after Afghanistan. And now it's gone again. I might try and start working again. Even though I don't think I will ever need to work again." He said softly, taking a sip of his tea.

"What do you mean?" Greg frowned.

"Sherlock was well off. When his will was read everything was left to me, and there's quite a bit. I don't even want to touch it though." He sighed softly in answer.

Greg nodded slowly, "I always wondered, oh well," he smiled a little, "Take you time in finding your feet again John. I'll always be around…" he was about to say something else when his phone beeped a few times, "Damn," he cursed as he looked to it and said, "looks like I've got to run. I'll call later, when I'm free, if it's not too late. If it is, pint tomorrow, and I'm not taking no for an answer."

John smiled and nodded, "Be safe."

Greg nodded as he stood up and quickly took his mug to the kitchen and then left. John was once again alone with his thoughts, he felt tired and listless without someone to distract him from the thoughts of Sherlock. He stood up and went to the bedroom he had spent a year sharing with Sherlock. He walk in and saw a few boxes, each marked with 'Sherlock's Notes'. He opened the nearest one and began to read. He felt as thought Sherlock was beside him speaking to him, instead of him just reading the words on the page. It was the only way he could think of Sherlock without wanting to break down, and that was to think of the work he did, instead of their more domestic and intimate moments.

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**Thank you for the reviews, I do hope you like this one. I'm not that sure about this chapter. Doesn't feel right, but I do hope you enjoy it.**


	5. Chapter 5

**I don't own BBC Sherlock, they are the creative works of Steven Moffat, Mark Gatiss and of course the wonderful Sir Arthur Conan Doyle.**

**Well here is another chapter for this one. I do hope you enjoy it.**

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**We Stand United**

**Chapter Five**

John walked into 221B Baker Street and took off his jacket and hung it up by the door. He had been living back at Baker Street for almost two weeks and it still didn't feel right to him. Though he knew that it was more because Sherlock wasn't there with him. There was no violin playing, no manic experiments in the kitchen. It was just John and occasionally Mrs Hudson, who would come up and see him. Violet and Alexander had been by a few days ago. Making sure that he was all right. They had noticed that the engagement ring he had found was now hung around his neck on a simple silver chain.

Mycroft had taken to stopping by ever other day or two, checking up on him. Trying to make sure that the grieving doctor was all right. Mycroft had even tried to get him out of the flat at times, with lunch. Though it had only happened once, and that once had John asking him about Sherlock and what he knew about his death and Moriarty. Mycroft had told him to forget it for now. That the time would come for him to know what happened. But for now John had to concentrate on himself. John had been confused by the answer, but had dropped it. He could see the stress in Mycroft's face and it worried John a little. While the two brother appeared to dislike each other, they did care and would defend the other quickly and swiftly.

John walked into the kitchen and switched the kettle on. He had started back up at the clinic two days ago. At first it had been hard, but within a few hours it had become a lot easier when he noticed that the staff where showing their support. They were all wearing the blue armbands. It had warmed him even more when he had noticed that a lot of his patients had also done the same. The kettle boiled and he made himself a cup of tea ad then sighed when he realised he had forgotten to pick up the mail from downstairs.

John went out to the living room and set his tea down on the coffee table and quickly went downstairs and grabbed the mail. He went through it and sighed when he saw another bill he would have to sort and some junk mail. He frowned when he came to a purple envelope, contrasting with the pure white of the others. It was a deep plum, it wasn't John's birthday, and so it couldn't be a card. Though as he felt it, it felt like a letter. It made him a little curious as to what the envelope contained.

John put the rest of the mail down as he went and sat down on the sofa, he turned the envelope over and back, looking at it. He sighed, as he knew that if Sherlock had done that he would have been able to give where it was posted from and everything about the sender. There was no return address and then he frowned again. There was no address on it either, it was just his name printed on the front. He opened it and began to read.

_**Dear John**_

_**I know that you are going through something unimaginable and I sympathise with you. I know you're hurting at the loss of a loved one. I know the pain, though the one I long for is still alive. I cannot be with him. It is too dangerous for me to be there, and it hurts more than words can say to be away from him. I wanted to let you know that you are not alone. And that while the times may be hard, it will be all right in the end. There will be an end to the pain you feel, it may be a long time in coming, but it will be over one day.**_

_**You believe in Sherlock Holmes, and others are following you because they believe in you. I believe in you. You made Sherlock Holmes a better person. You saved him in way that no one could see. I believe in you. Everything will be all right in the end, just believe in that.**_

There was no signature at the end of the letter. John shivered a little as he felt as though there was someone there with him. He felt as though the eyes of Sherlock were on him, observing him in that unnerving way he had when he was trying to figure something out. He looked around the room, as though he would be able to see Sherlock in the room with him, staring at him. His eyes came upon the envelope and he frowned. If this was another believer in Sherlock, then why was the envelope plum and not blue like everyone else was using to show their support.

Plum, a specific shade of purple. One he saw a lot of on Sherlock. It was the man's favourite shirt. One John loved seeing on him as it pulled tight over the mans chest. John wondered if the person who had sent it had known the two of them more than the others. Someone close to them, like Mrs Hudson. John contemplated calling Mycroft and then wondered if it was him that had sent the letter and not someone else.

It was hand delivered as well, so it could be. He knew that Mycroft wouldn't have posted it himself and would have had one of his minions do so. It was something that Mycroft would do to try and get him to move on. But the tone of the letter came across as more for him to wait and something brilliant would happen. That everything would be fine in the end. He sighed as he looked to the handwriting. Most of it wasn't familiar, but a few of the letters were reminding him of something that he couldn't place.

John shook his head and sighed, this was getting him nowhere. He put the letter back in the envelope and put it into a drawer in the desk, away and out of sight. He went over to the sofa and sat down as he picked up his mug of tea and took a sip, grimacing at the coldness of it. He sighed and got up to make another one, the letter out of his mind as everything around him went back to normal.

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**Thank you all for the wonderful reviews. I'm so happy you are enjoying this. Hope this chapter was all right.**

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	6. Chapter 6

**I don't own BBC Sherlock, they are the creative works of Steven Moffat, Mark Gatiss and of course the wonderful Sir Arthur Conan Doyle.**

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**We Stand United**

**Chapter Six**

John chuckled as he watched Greg sigh and send John a small crooked smile. The older man walked away from the woman that he had been trying to chat up. He had failed really badly at doing so. The woman had turned him down flat.

"So," John smirked, "The Silver Fox has struck out once again tonight, how many does that make it?" he joked with the older man as he sat down in their booth and glared a little over to John.

Greg rolled his eyes, "Too many," he groaned as he added, "I just don't have any luck with the opposite sex tonight."

"Well you could always ask out a bloke," John suggested to him, a little smirk on his face. He knew Greg swung both ways.

"I strike out there just as much," he gave a heavy sigh and then gave a dry snort, "I don't have any luck at the moment."

"Well, I think we should head back home before you make a total fool out of yourself." John suggested as he downed the rest of the pint he had been nursing for the last hour.

Greg nodded in agreement as he did the same for his own, "Yeah, I agree with you there."

The two of them walked out of the pub and into the chilly night air. This was their second time in going to the pub after John had returned to Baker Street. It still felt a little odd between them, but things were slowly returning to normal between the two. John knew that Greg could have easily lost his job for sending the two a warning about what was going to happen. The reason why neither of them had ran was that they didn't want to cause unneeded trouble for their friend.

Neither of them talked as they walked through the streets. Both of them lived close to the pub, within walking distance. They said their goodbyes and split as they came to Regent Park. John would have to go through, while Greg would have to head around it a little before reaching his own flat after he had split with his wife. The divorce had been finalised just before Sherlock had jumped.

John walked through Regents Park; the place was practically deserted and quiet. It was peaceful, but John still missed the rush he had gotten when he was running along side Sherlock on a case. Life was boring, but something stired around him on occasions. Every now and then he would feel as though someone was watching him. It didn't feel like it was Mycroft, he knew what it felt like when he was under Big Brother's watchful eye. This was nothing like that at all, and it concerned him a little.

John pulled the keys out of his pocket and unlocked the front door. He was about to step inside when he noticed a plum coloured envelope on the mat just inside the door. He bent down and picked it up. He examined it, turning it over in his hands. His name was scrawled on the front once again. It was exactly the same as the one he had received two weeks before. John quickly stepped inside and closed and locked the front door. He rushed up the stairs as quietly and as quickly as he could. He went inside 221B and locked the door behind him.

John flopped down on the sofa and looked the envelope over once again. It had been hand delivered, and he new that for two reasons. There was no address on the envelope at all, just his name. The second was that the letter hadn't been there when he had left to meet Greg for a drink four hours ago. He opened it up and began to read it, wondering what this one would say.

_Dear John_

_Things are getting dangerous at the moment. I fear for my life at times. I knew when I decided to do this that I would be in danger for most of it. But to have no one that I can rely on to help me, makes it a lot harder. There are things that are needed t be done. I need to get them done quickly as well. To make sure that things are safe for those I care about. I should not be writing this letter to you, as it could be dangerous. For both of us._

_I need to tell you not to speak of these letters to anyone. It could make things very difficult and even more dangerous than they are now. Not to mention that I would no longer be able to write to you if people found out. I would have no choice but to stop._

_I do worry about you. If you are safe? If you are well? I do not like the thought of you being alone, with no one to watch over you. You should be protected at all times. Do be careful John. Take precautions when you go out, do it all the time. Never forget._

_The letters I am going to send you, like this one, will be going through different means to get to you. Do not be surprised when you find them in odd places at odd times during the day or night. I can't risk them falling into the wrong hands, so do keep an eye out for the plum coloured envelopes._

_Be careful and believe that things will be better in the end._

The letter ended and John couldn't help but worry about the man writing it as he saw a small amount of blood on the paper. Not only that but his suspicions on who was writing the letter began to grow. That line, 'Could be dangerous' resonating within him. Sherlock had sent that to him in a text, it was that text that brought him back to Baker Street after meeting Mycroft. John had never told anyone but Sherlock that it was those three simple words that called John to Sherlock's side and made him stay.

John put the letter back into the envelope and into the drawer with the other one. John went over to the window and looked out. He needed to find out what exactly happened on the roof the day that Sherlock jumped. He had a feeling that if he asked Mycroft he would be told to leave it be. Mycroft wanted him to remain in the dark about what happened. John was now beginning to get a little suspicious about what it was the other man was hiding from him.

John would have to talk with Greg. He looked at his phone and sighed as he saw the time. He knew that Greg would still be awake but thought it would be better to wait until the morning when he was more awake and aware. He put it away as he yawned. John closed the curtains in the living room and made sure that flat was locked up tightly. He went to his and Sherlock's room and get ready for bed. He climbed into to the large bed that he had shared with Sherlock. It felt too big and empty now, but with that letter, hope had begun to bloom within him. The hope that it may not remain that way for very much longer.

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**Thank you all for reading, I do hope that you have enjoyed this chapter. The reviews are brilliant, thank you!**


	7. Chapter 7

**I don't own BBC Sherlock, they are the creative works of Steven Moffat, Mark Gatiss and of course the wonderful Sir Arthur Conan Doyle.**

**NaNoWriMo is almost here, around October I go into a state of hiatus until December. I will be posting until the 1st October, and won't be posting again until the 10th December.**

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**We Stand United**

**Chapter Seven**

John looked at Greg over the desk before he went back to reading the report on the forensics that had been gathered. Between them was everything that Greg had been able to gather from that day on the roof of St Bart's. Greg had left out the autopsy report on Sherlock, not wanting to upset John with it. Greg felt sick as he looked at the photos where Sherlock had landed, the pool of blood staining the pavement.

"I still can't believe he jumped," Greg whispered as he looked up to John.

John nodded, "I know, but I need to know why. He didn't care what people thought of him Greg. I know Sherlock. There are still those that would have called him in, even if you couldn't." He sighed as he frowned at one of the pictures from the roof, "That's strange."

Greg looked to him puzzled, "What?" he asked as he leaned over the desk a little to look at the picture.

John moved around and showed Greg the picture. "This is the roof, right?"

Greg nodded, "Yeah, what off it?"

John chuckled, "You see but you don't observe, Sherlock is right on that." He turned sombre as he then said, "On the roof there is some blood. I don't know who's though. The report says that it's Sherlock's, but there is no testing to prove that. No forensic report to support it, there isn't one here. From what I remember Sherlock had no other injuries but to the head from what I could see. And from what I can tell in the picture there is brain matter in the pool of blood, and enough blood that Sherlock wouldn't have been able to get to the edge and jump off." He told him pointedly eyebrow raised.

Greg flopped back in his chair, "So someone was up there with him, he wasn't alone." He shook his head in disbelief.

John nodded, "I had a feeling that someone else had made him jump. And I don't even have to guess as to who would have been up there." He sighed and shook his head. "I think I know who cleaned it up as well." He looked to his friend and gave a small smile. "Moriarty, this was all about Moriarty. He wanted to burn Sherlock, burn his heart. Sherlock always told me that I was his heart. There is no other way he would have jumped, unless I was in danger. He can be so overprotective at times, and at other times, well he could be a right foul git." He smiled a little as he thought back to before all this had began.

"So, Moriarty gives him an ultimatum, jump or I kill John." He suggested a scenario, "But he could easily have kill Moriarty and then not jumped," he frowned as he looked to John, wondering what the other thought of it all.

John smiled softly, "The night at the Pool, when we first truly met Moriarty. He had snipers on us. He has a vast web of people working for him, he doesn't work alone. He could have had a sniper on me. If Moriarty dies, there is no one to call them off. If Sherlock doesn't jump, they carry out their order."

"So, Moriarty would have killed himself to stop the orders from being rescinded. Sherlock had no choice but to jump in order to keep you safe." Greg nodded, "Damn, he did it all for you."

John nodded as he remembered the letter, "Damn. Damn!" he excalmined as he bolted out of the seat. "We shouldn't have done this here. I don't think it would have been wise at the flat either. With Sherlock gone, they are still around. We need to be careful." He voice shook a little at the thought of Greg being in danger because he had decided to talk with him about it all.

"John, we'll be fine. We're just talking, so calm down and sit down." Greg told him, wondering what the hell was wrong now.

"Greg, we're still in danger as long as Moriarty's web is still up and running. Moriarty is still missing, and if he is dead, they would just carry on. I think Mycroft has a hand in all this Greg, and you know what he is like. Especially as we have no proof of Moriarty's death." He gave a pointed look to the other and a subtle glance around the room.

Greg sighed, "You know, I thought that would be all over with, the constant watching." He glanced around and stood up as he looked to John, "Go home, get some rest. I'll stop by tomorrow after my shift."

"Yeah, would be the better idea." He nodded as he pulled on his jacket and headed towards the door, "Greg, be careful all right. Keep an eye out for anything. They could be after you as well. I just have a really bad feeling." He told him, warning him as he had been warned by the two letters he had received.

Greg looked to him and nodded slowly, "I will. Now go home. I'll see you tomorrow." He gave a small smile.

"See you tomorrow Greg." John nodded and gave a smile back as he walked out of Greg's office and towards the lift, ignoring those that were looking at him. He shivered a little as he felt a ball of dread in his stomach. He turned and glanced around the room as he entered the lift. There were so many looking at him, he could still see some of them wearing the blue armbands, just like Greg was still doing.

XxXxX

John walked into Baker Street to see a worried looking Mrs Hudson standing there, waiting for him. "Oh John," she said as she went over to him and put a hand on his arm, "Mycroft is here. I don't know what he wants, he said he was going to wait for you." She told him, looking a little worried as she glanced up their stairs, wondering what type of bad news was coming this time.

"It's all right Mrs Hudson, I'll go and talk to him. You go back to your home, don't you worry all right," he told her with a reassuring smile on his face.

Mrs Hudson nodded her head as she then left to 221A. John walked up the stairs and into his flat.

"You know, I thought these drop in visits would be over by now. You had started to learn manners and started knocking before letting yourself in." John admonished him as he went over to the sofa and sat down, looking at Mycroft, who was sitting in his chair.

"I thought I would come by personally and tell you that you need to stop looking into things." Mycroft said, a calm look on his face.

John observed him and shook his head. He could tell that the older man was worried and stressed, more than normal. "Not going to happen Mycroft and you know it. Just let me do things my own way. I need to know what happened and you have already told me that you wont be the one to tell me. So I am going to find out myself. Now leave." He said as he stood up and moved to the kitchen.

Mycroft sighed, "Please be careful John, things are more complex than they seem and the wrong thing could bring it down on all of us."

John ignored him as he went about making himself some tea. Mycroft gave a shake of his head at the stubborn doctor and left. John gave a sigh and leaned against the counter. John would have to be careful. He didn't like the fact that there was even more to things that what John had been able to find out.

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**Well, thank you all for reading so far. I do hope that you are still enjoying this one. Thanks for the wonderful reviews! You guys are awesome!**


	8. Chapter 8

**I don't own BBC Sherlock, they are the creative works of Steven Moffat, Mark Gatiss and of course the wonderful Sir Arthur Conan Doyle.**

**NaNoWriMo is almost here; around October I go into a state of hiatus until December. I try and make one last post on the 1st October, no promises now. I will not be posting again until the 10th December.**

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**We Stand Untied**

**Chapter Eight**

John walked through the streets as he headed towards the pub. He was on his way to meet Greg for lunch. John had asked Greg to bring him copies of the reports so that he could go through them on his own. He heard his phone ring and he pulled it out of the pocket that it was in. He smiled a little as he saw who was calling him. He pressed on the answer button and raised it to his ear.

"Hey Greg," John greeted to the one on the other end of the line.

Greg snorted a little, "I'm running a little late. The guy didn't want to confess at all, was denying it left and right. Brought out one of the pieces of evidence and he caved like a stack of cards. It just took a while to get his full statement." He told his friend, his voice smug.

"At least you got him," John smiled as he added, "I'll meet you at the pub and I'll be waiting with a coke for you. No drinking while on duty remember," he teased a little.

"Yeah, sure. I'm already heading that way now. Shouldn't be that late, just a few minutes." Greg chuckled softly, "And don't tease, I would love nothing more than a pint after that bastard." He groused a little.

John felt a little bad for teasing him and was about to say something when he gave a shudder, "Greg, be careful. I have a really bad feeling again." He warned as he picked up the pace and started to jog towards the pub. He wanted to meet Greg as quickly as he could.

"I will, though I don't kn…" he began to say but cut off. "Who are you?" Greg questioned, though it sounded quieter, as Greg had moved the phone away from his face. There was a wariness in his voice as he spoke, "What the hell. Look mate, you really need to put the gun away all right." His voice was calm but tense as John listened in.

John began to run towards the route Greg would take to get to the pub. It didn't take him long to pass the pub that they were going to be meeting at. He didn't dare make a noise as he listened to Greg trying to get who ever it was to calm and drop the gun. John jolted in his running as a shot rang over the line. A cry of pain followed as a dull thud was heard as someone hit the ground. The clattering of Greg's mobile hitting the floor sent a wave of panic through John.

"Greg?" John whispered, his voice shaky as he pushed himself even more. John needed to get to Greg quickly, he had to help his friend.

Someone chuckled in the background as the phone was picked up, "Hello there Doctor Watson. Nice to speak to you at last. Makes a chanced from my point of view." Came the voice on the other end of the line.

"Who are you?" John asked as he carried on running, he was huffing a little now as he ran.

"Who I am is of no concern of yours. But what you should be concerned about is your friend. He doesn't look to good." He chuckled dryly, "Word of warning Doctor Watson. You really need to keep your nose out of other peoples business. You need to stop looking into Jim Moriarty. Next time I wont just hurt someone, I will kill them." He warned as he then ended the call.

John took a shuddering breath as he sped up as much as he could. His phone beeped as Greg's location was given to him. He then used his phone to call for an Ambulance directing it towards Greg's location, along with informing the police. He turned another corner and could see Greg lying on the ground. There was a few people hanging around, one was trying to help Greg. John rushed over and fell to his knees beside him helping the one already there.

"Greg," he yelled out as he looked his friend over, he could now hear the sirens in the background, getting closer.

"Jo…John," he gasped out.

John gave him a reassuring smile as he took over putting pressure on to the wound, "Good to see you, looks like you wont be having a pint for a bit longer." Greg smiled a little at that. The ambulance was soon pulling up near them. The paramedic and John soon got Greg into the Ambulance and on the way to the hospital. The police taping off the area behind them.

XxXxX

John sat in one of the uncomfortable plastic chair outside of the operating rooms. He had been there for a number of hours now and he was beginning to worry for his friend. He looked up in hope as he heard footsteps head towards him.

"Dr Watson?" the woman asked as she neared him.

John nodded as he stood up to greet her, "Yeah, that's me."

She smiled "I'm Doctor Battle, I've been told that I can talk with you about Mr Lestrade's condition."

John gave a grateful smile, "Thank you, so how is he?"

"Well, he is going to be just fine. He did lose quite a lot of blood but we've done a transfusion to help with that. Thankfully nothing was hit when the bullet went in. So he will spend around a week here, but he will need to take it easy when he goes home." She answered him a smile on her face.

John nodded as he took on what she had told him, "Thank you, when can I go and see him?"

"We're going to get him settled into a room and then I'll send someone down to come and get you. Just wait here for now." She replied as she then gave a nod and walked away, leaving him on his own once again.

"John," came an unwelcome voice.

John turned around and looked to the man that had walked up behind him, "Mycroft, what do you want?"

He stepped a little closer, "I heard what happened," he said softy, "I know that this has got something to do with what you two were talking about and discussing yesterday."

John sighed, "I know that there is more to this that what meets the eye. I think I know why he jumped. If you need my help, then you know where I am." He told him.

"I made a promise to keep you and two others safe. You are making that extremely difficult." He said softly, "I beg of you John, please stop. Things are dangerous, I do not wish to hear that something has happened to you. It is bad enough that Greg has been shot."

"I know, but I need to do this." John told him as he looked to the man.

Mycroft sighed, "Then please, be very careful. The police will be by tomorrow to talk to Greg and yourself about what happened. Just give them the basics. You know why. I shall also be dealing with this," he told John, hoping he would listen.

John nodded as Mycroft gave a small nod back and then turned around and walked away. John now knew exactly who had been threatened. It was almost twenty minutes later when someone came to get him. He sat beside Greg's bedside as he slept, remaining there throughout the night.

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**Thank you all for reading. I do hope you are enjoying this one so far. Thank you all for the wonderful reviews, you guys rock!**


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